The Killer Inside
by A.G. Hart
Summary: No one knew what he was capable of, not even him.  Sometimes the urge to kill is just too strong. GSOC, little bits of GSR.  Very dark.  Warning: Character death! Ch.2 is now actually ch.2!  Chapter 6 updated.  The end...for now.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or any of its characters.

Author's note: Please be warned, this is not a happy fic. It is very dark and as detailed as I think will allow. This happens at the end of Season 7 with everything in place, except Sara's disappearance. I don't want to deal with that or speculate what happens. Sammy is from the "Those Who Care" one shot.

Chapter 1

He sat on the edge of the bed wearing only jeans and socks, rubbing his gloved hands down his face. _Stupid bastard, you killed her,_ he chastised himself. _Maybe you didn't_, he tried to comfort himself, but one look behind him told him he was just fooling himself. He had killed her. And he hated to admit it, but he had liked it.

_This makes two…no three,_ he thought to himself as he studied the woman on the bed. Her dark hair fell around her head in a halo. Her naked body sprawled out, ready to welcome him. If only she hadn't been so stupid, she might still be alive. But she had said it, the one thing he hated to be called. The one name he couldn't stand, because he knew it was true—_Killer._

He knew, somewhere in the back of the sensible part of his brain, that she hadn't meant it the way he took it. He had been teasing her with a feather and she, due to the pleasure said to him, "You're a killer." His brain clicked off and his anger clicked on. So he did it—he killed her.

He stood up and did not even bother with the sheets. He knew there were no biologicals here. He had been careful. Not a hair, not a nail, not even a skin cell. No one would even know he was here. Except her, of course, but she wasn't talking right now and he doubted she would be anytime soon.

He put on his shirt, shoes and hooded sweatshirt and destroyed anything else that might give him away. Then he left. He held no remorse at the moment but knew it was coming. He made a mental note to buy a fifth somewhere near his home, so that he could drown it out when it came.

He took a quick look out in to the hall to make sure no one was out there. He quietly walked down the hall, making sure the hood covered his face—not that this was the type of establishment to have surveillance cameras. Once he got to the parking lot, he got in to the old beater that no one knew he owned and drove home, trying to figure out how to stop himself.

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"I'm here, where's the party?" Greg Sanders asked CSIs Nick Stokes and Gil Grissom, who were already at the scene and searching around the body for evidence.

Nick sarcastically laughed and spread his arm out to indicate a woman's dead body tied to the hotel room bed. "Sorry, but it looks like the party is already over. Anyway, I thought you had your own party last night. Didn't you go out with Sammy?"

At the mention of his girlfriend's name, Greg paused for a moment and remembered their psuedo first date. It had been about six and a half months ago. He had been at a bar, going crazy not being able to go out in the field. He had to wait for the Coroner's inquiry and that hadn't gone so well. And that night in the bar he was just trying to numb the pain the medication couldn't.

After finishing his second drink, Greg motioned to the bartender for another. After it was placed in front of him, he heard the bartender ask, "Do you have a tab?"

He nodded, not looking at the feminine voice he heard.

"What's the name?" she asked.

"Greg Sanders," he replied, taking a drink.

"Greg Sanders? The CSI?" she inquired.

At this question, he looked up to see whom he was talking to. He studied her face for a minute, trying to focus in the darkness. Her face looked familiar but her hair seemed darker than he remembered. "Sammy?"

She smiled and nodded.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, not realizing the obliviousness of the question.

She let out a small giggle. "Working."

He smiled awkwardly realizing his mistake. "Obviously," he replied under his breath, chastising himself silently. "I almost didn't recognize you with the dark hair."

She subconsciously ran a hand through her hair. "Yeah. Talking to you made me remember that life is too short and you have to take a few chances."

His smile became more confident. "It looks good."

She blushed a little, but hoped he couldn't tell in the darkness. "Thank you," she replied.

"Since you're in to chances, want to take a chance and have dinner with me after you get off?" Greg had thought a lot about Sammy since the night she offered him comfort at the hospital and didn't want this opportunity to get to know her better pass him by.

Sammy hesitated. She knew he really did work for the crime lab, but other than that, she didn't know him. She wasn't sure if it was a chance she should take.

"Just as a thank you," Greg added, noticing her delay.

She decided it couldn't hurt and answered, "Ok, but I don't get off till four am."

Greg let out a laugh. "I work graveyard. Four am is mid day for me."

"Ok, four am," she replied. "Meet me out front."

Greg nodded, then, putting his drink down and pushing it away, he added. "Guess I better not finish that."

"Probably not," she laughed softly. "I would like a coherent thank you."

Greg looked down at his watch. _Damn!_ It was only 1:30. He was going to have to find something to do for the next two and a half hours. At least it would give him some time to sober up more.

"Well, let me pay my tab," he told her, pulling out his wallet and handing him her card. "And I will see you at four." He signed the tab and then got up to leave.

At four they had met and talked for almost six hours before Sammy fell asleep on his couch. He'd never seen a more beautiful sight then her sleeping.

And he had seen her last night, but there was no party.

David Phillips, the assistant coroner, broke into his thoughts when he spoke up. "Actually, the party has been spoiled for about 18 hours now."

Greg, Grissom and Nick turned towards David with a look of surprise on their faces. Usually David was a lot more serious.

"Whoa, Dave's getting a sense of humor! It's the end of the world!" Nick joked.

David gave his a cross look. "My wife told me I needed to loosen up a little. Don't make me regret my decision."

Nick had a contrite look on his face. "Sorry David. Any obvious cause of death?"

David let out a sigh. "There are no bruises or obvious wounds. There is some petechial hemorrhaging, so suffocation seems likely."

"Not strangulation?" Greg asked.

David, still a little bristly from Nick's earlier comment replied, "What part of 'no bruises' did you not understand?"

Grissom, quiet up until this point while studying the body, finally spoke up, "Cool it, you guys. This is not play time."

Greg held up his hands in mock defeat. "Sorry."

"Can we have the body now?" Grissom asked David.

"It's all yours," David replied a little more calmly before leaving.

"So, how should we remove the ties?" Nick asked Grissom.

At Nick's question, Grissom started to study the ties. "Does this look familiar to you?" he asked Nick.

Nick joined Grissom in studying the ties. After a few moments, he took a step back and it hit him. "Shit!" he swore in recognition.

Grissom nodded. "Anna Hughley."

"Anna Hughley?" Greg asked, wanting in on their secret.

"It was about a month ago," Nick started to tell Greg. "There was a prostitute found on the other side of town. She was tied in a similar fashion and smothered. It didn't get a lot of attention due to her less than perfect status."

Greg thoughts churned. "So, you're thinking maybe a serial killer?" Greg asked with a little too much excitement in his voice.

Grissom looked up at Greg. "It's too early to tell, but we still need to take some extra precaution."

"So, where do you want me to start?" Greg inquired, ready to get on with processing the scene.

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The next morning while watching the news, he once again cursed himself. He had paid for the room for a few days and had put the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door. He wondered what he missed that had caused them to find her so soon.

He paced back and forth in front of his TV. He was a lot more aggravated than he should be. He knew they wouldn't find anything that would link him to the scene. Hell, no one would even connect him to the crime. And that was the scariest part.

Greg Sanders was paid to solve the deaths, not cause them. Now, he did both.


	2. Relationships

Chapter 2

"Tell me what's wrong, Greg?" Sammy asked, pushing a strand of her blonde-again hair behind her ear. She had loved spending the last six months with him, but in the last couple months something had changed with him; she just didn't know what exactly it was.

"I keep telling you, nothing's wrong," Greg answered in a peeved tone. He was really getting sick of her asking the question.

She walked over to him as he searched his shelves for a DVD for them to watch. Once she reached him, she put her arms around him and he straightened up. "Greg, please. I know you hate me asking, but I know there's something going on. You've been angrier, more distant, just not yourself."

He bent his head down slightly so that he could look in to her eyes. The look of concern he found there broke his heart. He let out a heavy sigh and the broke their embrace. "Fine, you really want to know?" He didn't wait for her to answer. "I killed a boy and then was told I should have done something else to save my life and that of another. Then, I get sued and instead of standing behind me the lab sells me out!"

"I know, Greg," she responded, putting a hand on his arm. "It—"

"You don't know!" Greg yelled back at her, shrugging her hand off. "How could you possibly know?" he added, his voice softer.

Sammy put his arms back around him. "Please don't shut me out."

"Shut you out? How can I let you in? You don't want to be a part of the confusion, part of what I've become."

Sammy's eyes were wide in shock. "What do you mean, 'what you've become'? You're still you," she tried to make him see reason.

"After something like this, you can never be the same," he replied with frustration, not really talking about the same thing she was.

"What can I do to help?" she tried to speak calmly.

"Nothing. You can't help," he responded coldly.

"Then what's the point of me being here," she asked rhetorically as she made her way to the door. Tears started to spill out of her eyes as reached for the doorknob.

He walked up behind her, planning on stopping her, feeling an urge deep inside him grow. He first put his hand on her shoulder to stop her, but ended up sliding both hands around her neck. The he started to choke her. She wasn't going to leave him.

She reached up with her hands and tried to pry his fingers from her neck. Fear consumed her as she struggled to get him to release her. "Please," she begged, her voice hoarse from the tightness of his hands.

He saw himself choking her, but he didn't want to. He knew she loved him, but he couldn't get his hands to obey him. Before he knew it, she was limp in his arms. He started to feel tears running down his own cheeks.

He was startled when he heard a noise behind him. The noise was an incessant beeping that caused everything around him to go fade to black. Suddenly, he was conscious and realized that he was having a nightmare about the fight he and Sammy had had.

He struggled to clear his mind and remember what had really happened. He hadn't hurt her. He had just let her walk out of the door and out of his life. He couldn't tell her the truth. She'd never forgive him for his killings. And that had sparked his rage, what had caused him to go looking for someone else.

He knew this was a dangerous game. He knew he'd get caught one day. But, he assured himself, that day was not going to be anytime soon.

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"So, Doc, what's the damage?" Grissom asked Dr. Robbins as the doctor was finishing the autopsy.

"There's very little trauma to the body. There are no bruises on the wrists or ankles, seeming to indicate that her being tied up was, at least at first, consensual. There's no sign of any sexual activity. The only real indication of anything is the petechial hemorrhages in her eyes and some on her face. Official ruling is homicide, death by suffocation," Dr. Robbins explained.

"Any foreign fluids? Salvia? Anything?" Grissom questioned.

Dr. Robbins shook his head. "Are you wondering the same thing I am?"

Grissom nodded slightly. "Anything to link it to Anna Hughley?"

"It is very similar. Tied up, but no rape, nothing to even suggest sexual gratification. Suffocation, but nothing lodged in the throat, nothing found around the mouth or nostrils. But with only two bodies, it could just be a coincidence."

"Thanks," Grissom replied as he left to check in with the other.

Unfortunately, checking in with the others didn't yield much either. There was no evidence left by the murderer. Grissom decided to check in with Brass to see if he had come up with anything.

"Did the motel clerk tell you anything?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah, that the room was paid in cash for three days by a man," Brass answered.

"Did he get a copy of the man's ID? A description?" Grissom inquired.

"Yeah," Brass replied sarcastically. "He said the man looked like Benjamin Franklin."

"It would fit," Grissom responded.

"What?" Brass questioned in surprise.

Grissom gave Brass an odd smile. "He didn't leave anything behind at the scene and Benjamin Franklin is dead, maybe we are dealing with a ghost."

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Detective Sophia Curtis and CSI Sara Sidle, stood outside the front door of the quaint house in Henderson. They had located the victim's identity, Kelli Davis, and now they were trying to piece together the last few hours of Kelli's life.

"Can I help you?" a short blonde woman answered the door.

"I'm Detective Curtis and this is Sara Sidle form the crime lab. Is this where Kelli Davis lives?"

"On my god," the woman gasped. "Did something happen to her? I knew something was wrong when she didn't come home yesterday. Is she alright?"

"I'm sorry, miss, but Kelli is dead," Sophia informed the woman. "I'm sorry for your loss."

The woman's bottom lip started shaking and Sara could tell she was fighting the tears welling up in her eyes. "Can we come in and talk to you for a few minutes?" Sara asked.

The woman nodded and opened the door wide for them. She led them in to the living room, where she offered them a seat on the couch. "I'm Fiona Wright," she introduced herself as she sat down.

"So, why did you think something was wrong?" Sophia asked.

"Well, we went to a club the night before last because Kelli's boyfriend had just broken up with her. She was upset, so I wanted to help cheer her up." Fiona told the other two women.

"So, did something happen when you want to the club?" Sophia inquired.

"Well, I saw her talking to this guy when she went to the powder room and when she came back she told me she'd found a ride home," Fiona replied.

"Did Kelli tell you anything about the man, like his name?" Sarah asked.

Fiona shook her head. "I don't know what was going through her head. She doesn't normally do stuff like that."

"Did you get a good look at the man?" Sophia questioned.

Fiona started to cry a little. "I didn't. I only saw him from behind. He was like half a foot taller than Kelli, so 5'10", maybe 5'11", and his hair was dark, but exactly what color, I can't say. He was thin, but well built. Honestly, I was a little jealous, but now…" Her tears started to flow a little more.

"Did she seem to know him?" Sophia asked.

Fiona shook her head as she wiped the tears from her eyes. "I don't think she did. He didn't look like her normal type."

"What do you mean?" Sara questioned.

Fiona sobered a little bit. "Well, Kelli normally goes for the khaki and polo type. This guy had on tight leather pants—at least they looked like leather—and a sleeves black t-shirt. He looked more goth than golf."

"Do you mind if we have a look in Kelli's room?" Sara asked.

Fiona nodded her head and then led the way. It was a futile effort though. They didn't find anything that was probative. It seemed that this investigation was on a one-way track to becoming an unsolved murder.


	3. Devotion

Chapter 3

Sammy McKie hadn't slept since her argument with Greg. All she had been able to do for the last few days was lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. She hadn't wanted things to end the way they had. She just wanted to help Greg through whatever was going on.

Even though she hadn't been sleeping, she still kept up with nursing school, her job at the bar, and her candy striping. It was hard, but she was determined to do it. Unfortunately, it all only made her more tired, which was why she had fallen asleep on her couch that night.

Sammy hadn't even realized she'd been sleeping until she heard a noise behind her. She opened her eyes just a little, to see if she could get a good look at what the noise was. It wasn't any help; there was no reflection in the television. All of a sudden, she felt someone touching her arm, rubbing it. And that is when she became truly frightened.

She balled the hand under her head into a first. Then she quickly swung back where she assumed the person was standing. Her fist made contact, but only with the person's palm.

"Hey!" a familiar voice said.

Sammy quickly opened her eyes to see Greg behind her. "Greg, what are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," Greg replied in a calming tone. "I just needed someone to talk to."

Sammy was a little frightened by the look in Greg's eyes. She had seen him like this once before, it was a little more than a month ago. "What's going on?" she knew she couldn't deny him help.

Greg started pacing in the area behind the couch. How did he explain that looking at pictures of the woman he had killed was agitating him, making him want to do it again. He only knew that over the last few months Sammy had been his sanity and that was one thing he didn't want to lose right now. "I wanted to see you," he told her the truth.

"I thought you said you wanted someone to talk to?" she asked.

He started nodding, "I wanted to talk to you and see you."

"What's bothering you?" Sammy patted the seat next to her on the couch. His pacing was making her nervous.

Greg followed her unspoken command and sat next to Sammy. "I am just having a really hard time right now. All I've been able to think of is Marshall James calling me a killer."

Sammy put her hand on his shoulder and looked him directly in the eyes. "You know you're not," she assured him. "What happened was an accident. You were trying to protect yourself and Mr. Tanner."

Greg had heard all of this before. "It doesn't change the fact that I killed Demetrius." _And Anna and Kelli…_

Sammy knew his doubt very well. It was one she and Greg had talked about many times in the past. She had some experience in this area and hoped that it would help Greg. But she hadn't yet been able to find out how to help him over come it. Other than to tell him she never thought of him as a killer. She knew it was an accident. All she'd ever tried to do was love him.

Sammy pulled him in to her arms, his head resting under her chin. "Greg, you are a warm, caring person. You are one of the gentlest people I've ever known. You couldn't possibly hurt someone on purpose."

Her words cut him to his blackening soul. He broke her embrace and stood up. "I knew I shouldn't have come," he said to himself, slightly agitated. Then he started towards the door.

Sammy wondered what she had said wrong but she wasn't going to let him leave in the state he was in. She stood up and grabbed his arm. "Please don't go."

He turned to look back at her. Her love and concern was written all over her face. And it melted the hurt and anger within him. He turned his whole self quickly and crushed her to him.

Sammy was taken aback by how tight his embrace was. She could barely breathe, literally. "Greg, I can't breathe," she said with a note of humor in her voice, so as not to upset him.

He loosened his arms and looked down at her. "I'm sorry. All I've thought of the last few days has been you. I was a jerk the other night. I've just been really stressed out. I don't won't to lose you over my stupidity." Greg took a deep breath and looked directly in to her eyes. "Please say you'll give me a second chance?"

Sammy was torn. It had been a bad few days for her too. She was mad that he had let her walk out over one stupid argument. And even though they hadn't been together too terribly long, she knew that he had worked his way in to her heart. How could she deny him the one thing she was never granted as a child…a second chance.

Sammy's mind wondered back to her childhood. She had been raised by an abusive father and an enabling mother. It didn't matter what she did wrong, her punishment always left bruises and her mother always sided with her father—even when it was her mother that her father was beating.

After her parents were murdered—her mother by her father and her father by Sammy in self-defense—she spent a couple years in a couple of group homes and then was transferred in to traditional foster care. Most of her foster parents quickly got rid of her when they found out she had killed her father. It hadn't mattered that the man had just murdered his wife and was quickly beating the life out of Sammy. All that they saw was a girl that took a life. It wasn't until Vanessa Crane had taken her in that Sammy had got to experience what a mother was really like.

Sammy was skeptical of Vanessa in the beginning. She was used to people turning on her and unused to kindness. But Vanessa showed Sammy that there was a fresh start and that she could be loved. Vanessa was the only reason Sammy wasn't a prostitute or in jail or worse.

"Please?" Greg begged, brining Sammy back to the present.

She looked into his eyes and any doubt she had faded. She slowly nodded. "Ok, second chance. But don't expect a third."

Greg lifted her off the ground and spun her around before placing her back down. "Thank you," he replied and then he kissed her soundly. "Now," he added, picking her up completely and starting back towards her bedroom. "I have some making up to do."

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Greg shot up in bed, swinging his legs over the edge and placing his feet on the ground. He needed to feel something solid at the moment. Something he knew was real.

Greg sat on the edge of the bed, wiping his hands down his face. He could feel the beads of sweat dripping down his chest. _Stupid bastard, you killed her,_ he chastised himself. He subconsciously shook his head no. He turned around to see the truth.

Sammy's chest slowly rose and fell as she breathed. Greg felt relief wash over him. He had just had another nightmare where he had killed Sammy. He was grateful she was still alive and unharmed. He didn't know what he would do if he ever hurt Sammy.

Greg rose from the bed, grabbing his clothes from the floor. He dressed quietly as he left the bedroom and headed for the door. He wanted to stay. He wanted to just hold her all night. But he knew he couldn't. He had to do something to drown out the all too familiar voice that was starting to whisper to him.

He only hoped that Sammy didn't get too upset when she found him gone after waking. He knew he would have to figure out some lie between now and the time he next talked to her, which shouldn't be too hard. Lying was becoming all too easy. He just wished that fighting his urge to harm was as easy.


	4. In the Way

Chapter 4—Warning: Character Death

She sat in a booth in the far corner of the bar. It was dark so it was hard to see her, but from her vantage point she could easily see every one who came and went. It was the way she liked it.

She took another swig of her drink and looked towards the door just as someone was coming it. It was a man with blackish hair, wearing tight pants and a button-down shirt. He looked vaguely familiar, but it was hard to see all of his face with the goatee that he wore.

She kept her eye on the man, needing to figure out why he looked so familiar. He moved about the bar, surveying all the women present. He appeared to chat a few up, then move on. She found his behavior very odd, it was almost like he was looking for something, looking for a victim.

That is when a strange thought stuck her. She remembered her interview with Fiona Wright, Fiona's description of the man with whom Kelli Davis had left the bar. She wondered if this might be the man. It had been a few weeks since Kelli had been killed, surely the man could have grown a goatee in that amount of time. She watched him, her interest piqued.

The man had slowly made his way through the bar and was now standing a few feet in front of her, talking to some women at a nearby table. She tried to listen to their conversation, but with his back turned toward her and the volume of the music, she couldn't hear anything. Then he turned around.

"Hey," the man said in started recognition.

"What are you doing here?" she asked Greg. "And why do you have a goatee?"

Greg slid in to the booth across from her. "I…it's a long story," he told her. "You don't want to hear about my troubles."

"What's going on?" she asked, concerned.

Greg put his head down in his hands. "I think Sammy is cheating on me. I accidentally saw an e-mail where she was supposed to meet a guy here tonight. I'm in disguise so she doesn't recognize me."

His story sound believable enough and she had gone through the whole finding out you're dating a cheater thing. She knew it sucked. But something still struck her a little bit off.

He couldn't tell if she believed him or not. And he couldn't take the chance that she didn't believe him. His night was ruined and he couldn't take another night without a kill. He had been interrupted last week and now the urge was so strong, it threatened his well-being. He had no choice. When she turned her head to not betray her true emotions, he stealthily dropped a pill in her drink.

She turned to face him again and took a drink from her glass. "I don't know, Greg. I saw the way you were talking to every woman in the room," she informed him.

Greg swore under his breath. Why did she have to be so damned observant? "Ok, I'm lying," he confessed. "Please don't think less of me, but, I was trying to hook up with someone and the disguise is so I don't get caught," he told a semi truth.

She gave him a disgusted sneer and then the room started to spin. "Whoa," she cried as she grabbed on to the table trying to steady the room. "I think I might have had one too many."

"You want me to take you home?" he offered.

She nodded as he helped her out of the booth and to his car. Somewhere through the fog in her brain, it registered that the car he was putting her in wasn't his usual one. "Where's your car?" she slurred the question.

He didn't answer. He just kept his eyes forward, trying to convince himself the he was doing the right thing. He prayed that she would just pass out soon, maybe that would make it easier.

He drove for a while, then pulled in to some pay by the week dump. He paid for a room, using his usual identity, a hundred dollar bill. It was amazing what people were willing to forget for money. But that was a thought for another day.

He pulled around to the back of he motel that was far out of view of the manager's office. He took a quick look around to make sure no one else was watching and then he removed her from the car. Unlocking the room door, he quickly placed her on the bed, then shut and secured the door.

He started to pace the room. This was bad, very, very bad. It didn't matter how long he paid for the room, she would be found quickly. She was someone who would be missed immediately. That was not a comforting thought to him.

He went back to his car to grab a bag from the trunk. Once back in the room, he pulled out some gloves and some cloth cut into strands. He slipped on the gloves and then got down to business.

First, he tied her feet. He tied a loop around her ankles, then stretched the cloth and tied it around the legs of the bed since it had no footboard. He then moved on to tying her hands to the headboard.

As he was finishing tying her left hand, Sara's eyes flittered open. She stayed still for a moment, trying to get her bearing, trying to clear the thickness in her mind. She attempted to move her legs, only to find them immobile. When she couldn't move her hands, she looked to see why. That is when she saw Greg, tying her only free limb and then her panic started. She vaguely recalled the bar, the way he looked, and now, even though she couldn't believe it, she knew.

"Greg," she hoarsely cried.

Startled, he looked at her. She must not have ingested enough of the drug. He saw tears falling from her eyes, eyes that held a knowing look. "I'm sorry," he told her.

"Why?" she questioned.

He finished his knot and then sat down on the bed next to her. His face contorted in to a pained expression as he let out a long, deep sigh. "It wasn't supposed to be this way," was the only explanation he gave her.

He grabbed one of the pillows out from under her head. Her eyes grew wide, knowing what he was going to do. "Please don't," she begged.

"It's out of my hands," he replied, as he placed the pillow over her face until she stopped moving. A single tear escaped his eye and his notice.

Suddenly, his sanity hit him. "What the fuck am I doing?" he asked himself out loud, looking at her lifeless body. This was his friend, someone who had stood behind him. And he had just killed her. His guilt taking over he quickly started CPR.

After a couple minutes, she sputtered back to life. Her eyes were huge saucers as she looked at him with utter shock. He could see what she was thinking, the word that was revolving around her mind as she put everything together.

_You can't keep her quiet,_ he reminded himself. _She'll blow everything, get you arrested, sent to jail. She can't live_, a voice he knew as his own insisted. He grabbed the pillow again and put it back over her face.

She tried to scream, but was quickly muffled. This time she fought with all she had. She kicked and struggled. She tried anything to get him off of her. But it was all to no avail. All the air left her lungs too quickly and the darkness was again closed in on her. She was once again still.

Greg pushed all his feelings aside as he swiftly gathered up all his things. He wiped down anything that might hold his fingerprints. And then he headed for the door. He took one look back at her lying lifeless on the bed. _What the fuck have you done now,_ he asked himself, knowing the answer was one he didn't want to contemplate.

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Grissom started out of his office. The call had come in, another body found in a hotel. Grissom shook his head at the thought that this might actually be a serial killer.

"Gil," Ecklie called down the hall after him.

"What is it, Conrad? I've got a scene to attend to," Grissom responded.

"That's just it, you don't have a scene. I've called in some of the guys from day shift to take it."

Grissom made no secret of his anger. "Why?" he practically seethed.

Ecklie's face softened. "I hate to be the one to tell you this, Gil, but the victim," Ecklie paused and took a deep breath.

"Who is it?" Grissom demanded.

"The murder victim is Sara Sidle."


	5. Searching

Chapter 5

The ever stoic Grissom had just relayed the night's news to the graveyard shift; one of their team was dead. Warrick sat in silent shock. Nick's face was red, a tear escaping every so often. Catherine's tears were more free flowing. Greg sat in the corner, his grief evident on his face. But only he knew the real source of his grief—regret.

"Why won't Ecklie let us take the scene?" Catherine asked.

Grissom shrugged. "He feels that none of us could be impartial enough."

"But, he let you lead the investigation when I went missing," Nick stated.

"Plus, you have a greater knowledge of serial killers than half of the country," Warrick added.

"We don't know if it is a serial," Grissom responded. "But that brings up the point that there are other scenes involved, and there is some concern that we may look over the others."

"That's ridiculous," Nick responded.

"And it's Ecklie's call," Grissom said through gritted teeth.

The group of CSIs voiced their dissent. Although they knew Grissom didn't like having to listen to Ecklie any more than they did. They knew there had to be something they could do to help find Sara's killer.

"All we can do is wait and see if Ecklie decides he needs us. Until then, we've all got enough work to keep us busy."

"But—" Greg started, trying to fit in with the rest of the group.

Grissom interrupted, "No buts." His voice softened as he added, "I'll keep you updated on how the investigation is going. Now, let's get to work."

The group exited, each muttering under their breath. None more so that Nick. "But they were my cases," he said as he passed Grissom.

Grissom grabbed Nick's arm and pulled him to the side. "This isn't the time to get territorial Nick," Grissom told him in a hushed tone.

"If this is a serial, which it is looking like, this could be a career defining case," Nick whispered angrily.

"There are more important things here than your career, Nick," Grissom replied with venom in his voice Nick had never heard.

"Hey," Nick was offended. "Sara means a lot to me, too, which is another reason I'm so pissed about this. So please don't lecture me."

Grissom softened his expression before he gave himself away. "It's not my decision," Grissom finally said when he knew his voice would no longer betray him.

"I know, Gris, I know," Nick responded, and then left to do his work.

Grissom returned to his office, shutting his door as he entered. He deflated as he sat down at his desk. He had used his strength to keep composure for the others. They could never know his heart was breaking. He had taken a chance and now Lady Luck had given him snake eyes. Grissom felt a single tear rolling down his cheek, knowing he would never find anyone to fill his heart the way she had.

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"Have you guys got any leads?" Grissom asked Ecklie as they walked down the hall. It had been a couple days and Grissom still hadn't heard anything.

Ecklie had a smug look on his face. He knew this was killing Grissom and took sick satisfaction in it. "A sketch artist is working with the bar tender to get us a description," Ecklie told him. "Also, a tear was found on the pillow used to smother her."

Grissom shook his head. She died like the others. What connection was there?

"Twice," Ecklie added, interrupting Grissom's thoughts.

Grissom paused mid step and looked at Ecklie incredulously. "Twice?"

Ecklie grimly nodded. "There was bruising on her chest where someone had done CPR."

"So, whomever it was smothered her, performed CPR until she was breathing again, then smothered her again?" Grissom couldn't believe the words as he said them.

Greg couldn't believe them either. He was a few steps behind Ecklie and Grissom, appearing deaf to the world with his headphones on. In reality, however, his headphones were connected to an amplifier so he could listen to those around him. Since he was no longer working on the case, he needed to find out what evidence they had on him. And apparently, they had a lot.

Greg slowed his steps and turned in to one of the side labs. He hit the nearest tabletop with his fist. Why had he gone to that bar? Why had Sara been there? He knew that evening was going to lead to his downfall and now he was proven right.

He took a deep breath trying to calm himself. Greg knew he had to get to his locker and walk out of here without drawing attention to himself. There was no doubt the DNA results would be in any second. The sketch he wasn't too worried about because he wasn't sure the bar tender got a good look at him. But the DNA alone was enough to damn him.

Greg left the folder on the table and made his way to the locker room. After he had gotten his stuff, his made his way for the exit. As he passed the DNA lab, he saw Wendy guardedly speaking with Grissom. Luckily, they didn't see him pass, but he could tell something was up. He picked up his pace and quickly got out of there.

Back in the lab, Grissom was staring at Wendy is disbelief. How could he have missed this part of Greg's personality? "You're sure this is right?"

"Unless he has an identical twin we don't know about," Wendy replied, just as shocked as Grissom.

"Have you told Ecklie?" he inquired.

She shook her head. "Not yet. I figured you needed to know first," she hesitated a moment. "Because you might be the only one who can actually convince him to turn himself in."

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Wendy wasn't able to keep her results secret for very long. And when the sketch came in, there was no doubt in anyone's mind. Greg had killed Sara—and possibly two other women. And now Greg was nowhere to be found.

An APB went out on Greg and his vehicle. He had to be located. Since he had disappeared from the lab, it was deduced that he knew about the DNA evidence. There was no telling what he might do now. Grissom only hoped it wasn't anything stupid.


	6. The End?

Chapter 6

Sammy groggily made her way to the door. Someone was pounding on it furiously. She had no idea who it might be. She was a little shocked when she opened it and found Greg standing on the other side.

"Greg! What are you doing here? I told you I didn't want to see you anymore," she said, but he still brushed past her in to the apartment.

Greg ran his hand nervously through his hair. He seemed not to have heard her as he paced the floor. His eyes looked as if he was lost in contemplation.

"Greg?" she tried to get his attention. His back was turned to her so she touched his shoulder.

Her actions startled him. Greg turned around swiftly and grabbed her by her arms. The look in his eyes frightened her. She had never before seen the anger they held.

"Greg," she snapped. "You're hurting me. Please let go."

Her voice cut through the fog in his head. He finally saw her for the first time since he entered her apartment. He released her arms. "I...I'm sorry," he apologized.

"What are you doing here?" she repeated her earlier question. She thought she had made it clear that she was not going to tolerate his behavior.

It was about 10 days ago. She was supposed to have gone to the hospital for some of her volunteer work, when the bar called and asked her to cover a shift for Clara. She needed the money, so she decided to go in.

Sometime in the middle of her shift she saw a familiar-looking man with a moustache walk in. She couldn't quite place him—until he came to the bar to order a drink for himself and one for a woman. She knew Greg's voice the instant she heard it.

When he turned around to pay, she threw a glass of water in his face and called him a few choice names. Then she stormed out, with him not far behind. Once outside, they had a horrible yelling match that ended when she went back inside and the bouncer wouldn't let him. She loved him and it broke her heart, but she would never tolerate a cheater. He'd tried to contact her a couple times, but she hadn't spoken to him since.

"I just need you to know I'm sorry," he replied with a burning sincerity in his eyes.

"Fine, you're sorry for hurting me. Now leave," she said as she walked back towards the door.

"No," he stopped her by grabbing her shoulder, but this time he did it softly. He turned her to face him. "I'm sorry about what I've done, in the past. I'm sorry that you think I cheated on you. I didn't—"

"I saw you with her," Sammy interrupted, getting more pissed off.

"It wasn't what you think," he sounded a little defeated.

"Whatever," she didn't want to hear any more of his lies.

"Sammy, you have to know, I love you very much. Everything I've done, I've done for you," he tried to convince her.

Sammy was incredulous. "You cheated on me because you love me?"

The rage flamed in Greg's eyes. "No, I killed them so I wouldn't hurt you!"

Sammy's eyes grew large. "W-w-what?" she sputtered, not believing her own ears.

"Anna, Kelli, Sara… I didn't want to kill any of them," Greg replied is almost a cry. He hardened his face and then added, "But if everyone thinks I'm a killer, why not prove them right?"

Sammy couldn't say anything. She was completely and utterly stunned. Greg had been murdering women? How could that be?

Greg saw the frightened look on her face and then took a couple steps back. He didn't want to scare her. He just wanted her to know the truth. "I would never—could never—hurt you," Greg assured her.

"Just other people," she snidely replied, as she crossed on the opposite side of the room. She needed to get to her room, to the gun in her dresser that he didn't know about.

"Anna was an accident," he started to explain. "I admit, I picked her up, but I hadn't planned on killing her—or having sex with her. I just wanted to take out some frustrations and I didn't want to hurt you."

"And that makes it better?"

"No, it doesn't," he replied through gritted teeth. He could tell she wasn't understanding. "She recognized me, said I had killed Demetrius. And something just snapped. Before I knew it the pillow was over her face and she'd stopped breathing."

"What about Kelli? Was she an accident? And Sara…" Sammy paused as she realized who Sara was. "My god, Sara! She was your coworker!"

"I didn't have a choice," Greg growled. "She saw me. She would have connected the dots!"

"Aren't you full of excuses," Sammy snorted. "Why don't you just excuse your self from this apartment?"

Before Greg could respond, there was a knock on the door. Both Sammy and Greg were silent. Sammy wasn't sure what Greg might do in the state he was in.

"Are you expecting someone?" Greg asked as quietly as possible.

Sammy paused for a moment before shaking her head no. She was going to say yes, but she figured he'd know she was lying since she had been asleep when he arrived.

There was another knock on the door, this time it was followed by a voice. "Greg, I know you're in there. It's just me," Grissom stated.

Sammy raised an eyebrow. "Your boss?"

"They know," was his response as he moved towards the door. He pulled out a gun from under his jacket as he moved to open the door.

Sammy was a little surprised to see the gun. She had assumed he was unarmed. She'd never really known Greg to carry a weapon.

Greg cracked the door open and peered out to make sure Grissom was alone. When he was satisfied that he was, Greg quickly opened the door and roughly pulled Grissom inside. Greg faced Grissom, pointing the gun directly at him, as he relocked the door.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Greg demanded to know.

"I've come to talk you about turning yourself in," Grissom replied. "When the police find you, they won't hesitate to kill you."

"I'm not turning myself in and they aren't going to find me," Greg replied.

"I did," Grissom pointed out.

Greg crossed the room and shoved the gun right in Grissom's face. "And who followed you?"

"No one," Grissom responded, keeping his cool.

Greg seemed to find that answer acceptable and took a few steps back.

Grissom took a minute to look around and saw a woman, standing there is stunned silence. "Sammy, I presume?"

She nodded and then took a few steps towards him, extending her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Grissom. I've heard a lot of good things about you."

Grissom took her hand. "As I of you."

"This is not a meet and greet," Greg broke in, motioning for Sammy to move away from Grissom.

She obeyed, taking a few steps back. She couldn't figure out if Grissom being here was going to be a good thing or a bad thing. That is, until Grissom started talking. Then she knew it was going to be bad.

"Greg, I can help you, but you have to be honest with me. Did you kill them?" Grissom started.

Fire flared in Greg's eyes. "Don't patronize me, old man. I know you know the answer."

"Fine," Grissom conceded. "I need to hear you say it."

The expression on Greg's face betrayed the emotions he was trying to hold in. "Fuck you."

Grissom's face didn't betray him, but his words did. "Admit what you've done."

It was in that moment that Sammy realized something more was going on. Grissom wasn't just a concerned friend. But exactly what his angle was, she couldn't tell.

Greg let out a feral growl. "I killed Sara. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Something flickered in Grissom's eyes and then he did something he—and everyone else—never thought he would do. He balled his fist and slugged Greg for all he was worth.

Grissom's fist landed square to Greg's jaw. Greg went sprawling from the force of the punch and the sheer shock of it. He'd never seen Grissom hit anyone or anything.

Grissom took Greg's momentary confusion and grabbed for him. The two men started to struggle for the gun. Sammy, having a premonition about what was going to happen, started towards them. But she didn't make it in time.

There was a loud bang, and the two men were still. The world seemed to stop spinning and her heart seemed to stop beating. Nothing moved until Greg started to fall.

Sammy moved to catch him, knowing she wasn't strong enough to hold him. She fell to the ground with him, cradling his head in her lap. The dark red stain was growing across his chest from the hole in his torso.

Grissom quickly called for help, but he knew it wouldn't arrive in time. He bent down to help put pressure on Greg's wound, even though deep down he wanted to just watch Greg die. He deserved it for killing Sara—twice.

"I'm sorry, so sorry," Greg rasped over and over.

"Shhh, save your breath," Sammy ordered him, her voice wavering from emotions. She didn't understand the flood that filled her. She was angry, hurt, relieved, sad, but most of all self-loathing. What was wrong with her that she kept finding—and loving—the wrong type of person?

She held on to Greg and stroked his hair as he lay dying. He looked up at her and said, "I love you, Sammy." Then he breathed his final breath.

Sammy heard the sirens of the too-late help. She could feel the police, the EMTs pulling at her, wanting her to let him go. She couldn't move though. All her memories about her parents' deaths came back to her. The way the knife looked in her hand, coated in her father's blood. Her mother's scream at seeing her father dead. Something inside her broke.

And it was Grissom's voice that finally broke through the haze. "Sammy, you need to let go," she heard him say after how many repetitions, she didn't know.

She released Greg and allowed herself to be pulled away. She threw her arms around Grissom for comfort and he awkwardly returned the embrace.

"It's ok. It's over," he tried to comfort her.

But she knew it wasn't over, not for her. No, for her, it was only just beginning.

And it was only just beginning for the rest of the CSIs. They had not only the deaths of two of their colleagues, but also the fact that one was a murderer to deal with. Some took it better than others.

Warrick couldn't understand how Greg could cross the line. Warrick understood the rage inside, but there were boundaries that just weren't tried. He was surprised most by Grissom's actions. Warrick never would have thought Grissom had that type of anger in him.

Catherine never thought Greg would hurt a fly, but now he had killed three women, including Sara. It was just unfathomable to her. But if that was what he really was, good riddance to him. It was cold, but so was this life. And Sara's loss hit her harder than she had thought it would. They hadn't always gotten along, but they still had been friends.

Nick was extremely distraught over all the events of the last few days. Sara's death had hit him hard, especially after what had happened to him. When he found out it was Greg that had murdered her, it was almost more than he could bear. But, when he had learned that Greg had been killed by Grissom, it pushed him over the edge. He took a leave of absence and no one knew when he would return.

Grissom suffered in silence. He didn't want to—couldn't—share his pain with anyone else. No one had known what she had meant to him and now no one would. And Greg, through all the crazy hair and loud music, Grissom had seen Greg for what he really was: a great scientist. Yet, unforeseen events had altered his life for the worst and forever. Events so horrible, they had changed all their lives forever.


End file.
